


Of Secrets and Trust

by KrisseyCrystal (IceCreAMS)



Series: Of Bridges and Shores (Zestiria - AtlA AU) [6]
Category: Tales of Zestiria
Genre: Alternate Universe - Avatar & Benders Setting, Avatar Sorey, Avatar State, Bending (Avatar), Canon-Typical Violence, Fights, Lunarre's not a nice guy but uh, M/M, Mild Blood, Waterbending & Waterbenders, We knew that
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-22
Updated: 2020-03-22
Packaged: 2021-02-28 23:07:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,111
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23255209
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/IceCreAMS/pseuds/KrisseyCrystal
Summary: Sorey enters the Avatar state for the first time.
Relationships: Mikleo/Sorey (Tales of Zestiria)
Series: Of Bridges and Shores (Zestiria - AtlA AU) [6]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1407244
Comments: 8
Kudos: 41
Collections: Bad Things Happen Bingo





	Of Secrets and Trust

The Sparrowfeathers were interesting. 

Sorey and Lailah liked them well enough. The two had their heads bowed together, stars in their eyes as they listened to the harrowing tales the Sparrowfeather’s redheaded chief spun that first night around the tavern table. She wove story after story about their passages through the backwater bandit-roads of the Earth Kingdom’s southwestern dunes.

Mikleo was more reserved. He didn’t know if he fully believed the stories. He didn’t know if he knew enough to disprove them, but there was something about these traveling merchants he wanted to keep at arm’s length.

“Wow. You guys are a great audience,” Rose crooned over that night’s meal that Mikleo was fairly sure she would have conned them into paying for until she heard how little money they had. “I ain’t ever seen you around this tiny fishin’ village before--and let me tell you, I know everyone in said tiny fishin’ village. We pass through here a lot. Are you travelers?” 

Sorey nodded, mouth full of meat. “Yeah!” He swallowed. “We’re headed to a place called Omashu.”

“Oh yeah?”

“Yeah.” And before the alarm bells could start ringing in Mikleo’s head, Sorey dropped, “We’re trying to find a guy named Dezel. You heard of him?”

“Sorey!” Mikleo hissed and glanced to Lailah. Somehow, the Fire Sage didn’t seem half as bothered. The rest of her was relaxed, but those sea-green eyes watching the trio on the other side of the table were sharp. 

Rose hummed. She lifted her steaming porcelain cup of tea. “Yeah, we know Dezel,” she said in an entirely too-relaxed way that proportionally did the opposite to Mikleo’s nerves. “He’s an old friend of ours. But I gotta admit: it’s not everyday we hear someone’s going out of their way to look for ‘im. So tell me, what’s your business with ol’ Dezel?”

Mikleo clamped his hand over Sorey’s, lying loose and curled on the table.

“Uh--” Sorey’s eyes jumped to Mikleo’s. He saw the tiny shake of his friend’s head. “--can…I say it’s for private reasons?”

“I…guess? Is that a question or an answer?”

“I don’t know.”

Rose’s finger slowly drifted across the rim of her tea mug. Then, brightly, she smiled. She leaned over the table and extended a hand. “Well, you’re just in luck! Turns out, we Sparrowfeathers are headed to Omashu, anyway--”

“--we are?”

A _thud_ under the table.

The one who introduced himself as Rosh yelped. 

Rose continued as if nothing had happened. “If you three need a ride, why don’t you travel with us? We know these roads pretty well and with all of the recent banditry…well, as they say, there’s always safety in numbers!”

“Oh,” Sorey blinked. “That’s okay. We don’t need a ride. We have a--”

“--we’d love to!” Mikleo blurted and squeezed Sorey’s hand. Hard. “That’s a very nice offer of you. We’d be downright _idiots_ to take it down.”

Rose hummed, but it was pinched. Too sweet. “I know. And to make you guys even _further_ indebted to me, once we reach Omashu, I’ll even _introduce_ you to Dezel! How’s that for Earth Kingdom hospitality?”

“But Rose, we’re not even _from_ the Ear--”

Another _thud._

The one who called himself Eguille sighed and rolled his eyes.

“I expect we’ll have to pay you.”

“That is usually how these things work, yeah.”

Mikleo sighed. He thought of their pack and everything Zenrus had packed for them. 

He thought of the pipe.

Mikleo reached out to take Rose’s hand and shake it. “When we get to Omashu, we’ll make sure you get your payment.”

“Sounds like a deal!” Rose cheered and squeezed his hand back.

* * *

Atakk was told to keep nearby and out of sight for their journey to Omashu. It was, perhaps not so surprisingly, difficult for a giant dragon so deeply attached to its master to keep any semblance of “hidden,” but even Lailah agreed this was for the best. Sorey and Lailah took turns disappearing from their camp at odd moments, leaving the other and Mikleo to find a way to cover for their brief absence. 

It did not help relations with Rose, Eguille, and Rosh, but it did keep a tactless, affection-hungry dragon content and that was perhaps more important in the end.

To Mikleo’s greatest joy, upon reaching Omashu, it turned out there were more Sparrowfeathers, as well: a pair of twins and a strange-faced man that reminded Mikleo too much of a fox.

As if to add on to this, it seemed Dezel was also one of them.

“He’ll be back tomorrow,” one of the twins said with an energetic swing of her arm. “He had to help the mabo curry bun guy out--that poor fella’s always got somethin’ going wrong--so he said he’d be out late tonight.” She dipped her voice down an octave or two and added, “‘Don’t wait up,’ and all that.”

“Yeah! We’ll make sure you guys meet ‘im tomorrow, though!” her brother enthused.

Sorey and Mikleo shared a look. Sorey shrugged.

Mikleo sighed.

With little else to do, Sorey, Mikleo, and Lailah left to arrange for cheap enough inn rooms that they could afford for the night without having to sell Zenrus’ pipe.

Mikleo tried to ignore the odd way it felt like the fox-man--Lunarre, had they said his name was?--was watching them as they left.

* * *

Mikleo woke up in the middle of the night to find Sorey missing.

For a solid minute, Mikleo stared at their shared inn space and couldn’t make sense of the empty cot beside his own. The blankets were there, askew; the pillow had an indent from someone’s resting head. But there was no body; no Sorey. No boy from his water tribe village who shared every memory with him and who he couldn’t imagine being without because when had they ever been without their other half?

He was panicking. He knew he was panicking. His thoughts were flying too fast; they were bouncing off of his skull like marbles. Mikleo took a breath and thought of other possibilities.

Maybe Sorey was okay. He had a bad dream and went for a walk outside.

Mikleo’s violet eyes snapped around the room. Surely there was another clue as to where his best friend had up and gone to this late? Especially after he complained about feeling so exhausted after all of their traveling these past several days? Sorey himself had said he wanted nothing else but to collapse into his bed and rest. So why would he leave?

Sorey’s boots were still by the door.

Mikleo’s breath caught in his throat. His hand, hovering right at the curve of his neck, pressed a single finger to his crudely-made pendant.

Mikleo turned and ran. 

And they had been so careful.

They had taken every effort not to give any sign who Sorey was all those long days of riding in that cart, during their entire time with the Sparrowfeathers.

For a brief moment, as Mikleo passed by Lailah’s room, he considered waking her. But then he thought of Sorey and wherever he might have been, _whoever_ he might have been with--Rose? Eguille? It couldn’t have been Rosh that managed to figure their secret out, could it?--getting further and further away the longer Mikleo tried to rouse a search party, and he couldn’t bear the thought. He pushed on and burst out the front doors of the small inn. His violet gaze swept the village street.

At this time of night, there was no one about. Omashu may have been the second biggest city in the Earth Kingdom, but it appeared deserted and vacant in the moonlight now. Mikleo swallowed hard. He picked a random direction. 

He started sprinting when he heard it a moment later, hidden away in a small alley between two buildings: the sound of scuffles and a quiet, frustrated grunt. There was a curse and a whisper he could barely hear, but he could make out the words, “stubborn” and “fool” and that was all he needed. Mikleo rounded the corner.

“ _Sorey_!”

Mikleo caught sight of a familiar tuft of messy brown hair above blue water tribe nightclothes, before he saw the steel cords wrapped tightly around him. It took Mikleo a moment to recognize that Sorey was on his knees, with his arms bound tightly behind his back.

When Sorey looked up, Mikleo could see a watery sheen to those bright green eyes.

There was something on his face. Once he saw what it was, Mikleo came to a stop. 

It was a muzzle--the kind usually built for wild beasts to be tamed or subdued--wrapped around his jaw, molded like it had been specifically formed for a human face. It latched around the back of his head with a small piece of belted leather. Its surface shone in the moonlight, a glimmer of metal harshly covering soft, tanned skin.

Rage spilled forth. “You _asshole_!” 

The head of Sorey’s abductor, standing before the brunet, jerked up. It took Mikleo another moment to recognize that pale, angular face and those golden, fox-like eyes, before the waterbender curled his wrist and pulled a long snake of water from the alleyway’s gutters. He whipped it between Sorey and the fox-man and clenched his fist to snap it into the pavement. Sorey’s scream rang distorted, muffled, under the pressure of metal. 

The kidnapper jumped away. 

Mikleo launched himself into the space between them, pulling more water back to coil around himself. 

Lunarre--that was his name, wasn’t it?--laughed. Slowly, he straightened up, rolling his shoulders and long limbs like they were awkward on his body. With his knobbly hands, he unsheathed two knives from his belt and twirled them both between his fingers. The blades glinted in the night like stars.

“Well, well, well,” Lunarre purred. He bent his back into a curve. “Look who just decided to join in on the fun and just as we were about to get out of town, too.”

“Like _hell_ you are,” Mikleo rumbled. Anger spiked and boiled in his chest. “Are you working alone? Or are the other Sparrowfeathers in on this, too?” Who was he kidding? It was probably the latter. “How did you find out? How did you know?”

A long smile split Lunarre’s face in two. “Oh, how _cute_! I’ve taken your only toy, and now you want him back.” He leaped. 

Mikleo threw his hands to the ground. His water slammed to the pavement before bursting upward in a thick wall of spiked, curved ice. A sharp _ping_ of metal against an unrelenting surface resounded. It bounced off the adobe walls of the alleyway.

Mikleo moved his foot forward. He reached with his hands and clenched them into fists, pulling the ice walls back towards him. Slowly, the spikes reformed, shifting and thinning out until it formed a thick-bladed spear. He grasped his staff in the same instant Lunarre regained his footing. When Lunarre came at him again, he was ready.

Lunarre swung his right dagger. Mikleo parried with his staff. His heart pounded hard in his chest. He could feel each tremor jolt down his hands from the clash of ice against metal. His feet dug into the ground. 

Another swipe--from the left--met his staff again. Hard. Mikleo shoved forward.

Lunarre gritted his teeth and stumbled back, recoiling. He bent to one knee. After a single beat, Lunarre came up at him again. 

Mikleo side-stepped. 

It was almost dance-like; it reminded Mikleo of the sparring sessions he and Sorey used to have when he’d share what Master Uno taught him about self-defense, about fighting without bending. Maybe it would have been fun, maybe he could have thought of this as a challenge even, if Mikleo wasn’t so scared out of his mind, trying to recall every second what Master Uno said to do.

He didn’t practice this as much as he did water-bending.

With each cut, more and more ice dusted the pavement beneath their feet. Lunarre pulled closer and closer, pursuing Mikleo down the alleyway--thankfully--away from the bound and screaming Sorey. 

Mikleo could feel his chest squeeze tight when he realized he could see the white of the man’s eyes.

Quickly, he rotated his wrist. More water flew up from the gutter as Lunarre’s dagger swung for his head. Mikleo dropped to the ground. He snapped the water up, solidifying it into a thin ice projectile, right up against Lunarre’s chin. A thick curl of satisfaction swam in his gut when Lunarre cried out, head jerked back.

Mikleo rolled away: forward, past Lunarre’s feet, towards Sorey once more.

“You…!” Lunarre seemed at a loss for words. He growled and spun around.

Mikleo grunted when he felt a booted foot connect with his hip. He fell into the wall on his right; his shoulder screamed. The ice spear shattered on the ground.

There was another muffled cry further down the alley.

Mikleo turned, putting his back towards Sorey. He raised his water in a flimsy, rushed wall between himself and Lunarre. Just as he thought it would, the man’s knife cut through it instantly. The haphazard barrier peeled apart like butter and splashed back to the ground.

Mikleo jumped back. It was getting harder and harder to breathe. White noise buzzed in his head; he couldn’t get enough distance. He stumbled, slipped on something he didn’t even get the chance to see, and crashed back onto his ass. His palms scraped against dirtied pavement. 

Lunarre towered over him.

Mikleo’s heart thudded hard against the front of his ribcage. He jerked onto his right, shoulder screaming, to dodge a thrusted dagger. Frantically, Mikleo extended his hand for more gutter water.

None came.

Under the chill of moonlight, Lunarre’s shadow was an icy blanket that draped over his prone form. Mikleo had just a split-second of realizing he should probably move, he should probably fight, but it was hard to wrestle against the open, yawning feeling of helplessness swallowing him whole. He rolled in the other direction, onto his left, to avoid the next thrust of a knife.

This time, he could _feel_ the sharp burn of metal as it sliced open the side of his neck.

Mikleo squeezed his eyes tight.

Lunarre’s yellow eyes brightened. 

Red, Mikleo decided, was a horrible color set against silver.

He watched, feeling strangely disconnected from his own body, as Lunarre slowly pulled the dagger away. The darkened edge glistened; Mikleo blinked, wincing, as a single ruby drop of his blood dotted his cheek. He should--he should do something, shouldn’t he? He should try to protect himself. Or at the very least, he should stem the bleeding. Right? He should--

\--why was it so hard to process the will to _move_?

Lunarre chuckled, “Let’s do that again.” He brought down his knife in a wide arc.

Mikleo squeezed his eyes shut. In one split-second of blessed clarity, he crossed his arms over his head.

A rough and earthy sound roared up around him.

Mikleo’s heart pounded in his chest. In the sudden and sharp quiet afterwards, he had a moment where he could breathe and calm himself, recognize that he was, in fact, alive and not bleeding out. He wasn’t dead yet. Somehow. He opened his eyes.

A large “x” of dirt had formed above him, sprouting up from underneath the broken pavement, curved in a thick shield. 

Mikleo stared at the formation, not quite sure he understood what he was seeing and _how_ it had come to be until he felt a cool breeze brush his cheek.

It started out soft, lifting his bangs, cooling his forehead where his golden circlet was warm and sticky from his own sweat. Then, it built: a great, swirling pressure that grew until Mikleo could pinpoint that the abnormal wind was coming from somewhere behind him. His brown hair whipped around his face as he slowly pushed himself upright. He turned around.

He was not quite prepared for the shade of eerie, bright white, that had overtaken Sorey’s eyes.

“Damn it.”

Mikleo’s head jerked to Lunarre. He could see him standing just to the right of the earthen barrier that had erupted between them, but the man’s eyes weren’t on him. Mikleo readied himself to crawl out from under the “x” and rush to Sorey’s defense, but to his relief, Lunarre turned. His yellow eyes swept over Mikleo as he half-laid there. 

The man hesitated. 

Mikleo tensed, ready to defend himself. 

But then the earth underneath them shifted and slabs of pavement cracked and Lunarre’s eyes flickered to Sorey. The wind had become a gale. 

“Guess I’ll just have to continue our fun _another_ time,” he murmured, voice almost lost.

As soon as the man was gone, the earthquake ceased and Mikleo looked to Sorey, still kneeling down the alleyway. Several more sudden cracks and snaps popped. The waterbender jerked to his feet. He stumbled across the jutting pieces of stone and earth. The closer he got, the more Mikleo could see the small fractures appearing in the metal tightly wound around Sorey’s form, watching the way they would glow a soft orange before cooling to grey.

Mikleo began to run.

The steel cords shattered. 

The wind steadily increased.

Something the airbender Zaveid had said that fateful night they met in the Southern Air Temple ran through his head, sharp and clear like a bell. It was as if he had said it yesterday with that smug, irritating laugh: _Yeah, Eizen. You’re not_ completely _unlucky. At least you didn’t trigger that glowy, weird Avatar state or whatever._

Mikleo felt his heart jump into his throat. He dropped to his knees at Sorey’s side just as Sorey’s hands raised towards the muzzle.

There was a tight pinch to Sorey’s brow. His fingers found the metal encasing the lower half of his face and traced the length of it until he found the leather strap wrapping around the back of his head. Mikleo instantly raised his own hands. Almost subconsciously, he found himself talking, babbling endlessly, trying to say something or anything that would calm Sorey down.

“It’s okay! It’s okay. Sorey, it’s all right. You’re all right. I’ve--” 

His fingers fumbled as he unlatched the buckle from behind Sorey’s head. The leather give way. With a soft exhale, Mikleo eased the muzzle down and tossed it to the side. It might have dented against the cracked stone how hard Mikleo threw it. There were small, red lines left in Sorey’s tanned skin from where the metal frame had been pressing in.

Something sharp twinged in Mikleo’s chest. He reached for Sorey’s cheek. 

“There,” he breathed. He wondered if Sorey could hear him through all the wind spinning around the both of them. It flung his long bangs across his face wildly, almost enough to sting. He raised his voice. “It’s okay. It’s off now, Sorey. You’re all right. You’re all right!”

But his words didn’t seem to work. Nothing changed. Could Sorey not hear him? It was his own power, wasn’t it, bustling the wind so harshly around them? It continued to build and build with a scary ferocity until Mikleo began to be afraid there would be damage to the buildings on either side of them. 

“--leo! _Mikleo!”_

Mikleo’s head jerked down the alley. 

Lailah, Rose, and someone else Mikleo couldn’t make out the face of stood on the other side of the spinning dust. Belatedly, Mikleo realized he should probably be horrified to see the Sparrowfeathers chief, but when he saw the look in Rose’s eyes as she stared at him, he couldn’t find it inside of him to be angry.

Lailah’s long hair whipped madly behind her. Mikleo may not have known her long, but he had never seen her look as horrified before.

“ _\--leo!”_ she was shouting, hands cupped around her mouth. Her voice drifted in and out from underneath the gale. “ _\--him down! You need to…down!”_

Mikleo turned back around. Sorey’s tense, white-eyed form hadn’t changed. 

He didn’t know what to say.

“Sorey!” he called again, raising his voice to be heard. “Sorey, it’s okay! _I’m_ okay! I’m okay, you hear me? I’m _all right_ \--”

The wind’s speed dropped.

Mikleo took a steadying breath. He returned his hand to Sorey’s cheek. Even with those wide and inhumanely white eyes, Sorey’s head tilted into the touch. His feather earrings tickled the back of Mikleo’s hand. 

“That’s it,” he said again, voice quieter. “Yeah. I’m here. I’m okay. It’s going to be all right.”

Slowly, the winds around them died until they dissipated completely. The tension that had formed between Sorey’s eyes smoothed out. The night softened, now completely silent. Mikleo watched as the bright white in Sorey’s eyes faded, eventually replaced with tired green. 

Sorey took a breath. “Mikleo…?”

He swayed where he knelt. Mikleo held out his arms as Sorey’s head dropped forward against his collar. He wrapped both arms around Sorey’s slumped shoulders and squeezed him.

“It’s okay,” Mikleo murmured into disheveled brown hair for what felt like the hundredth time. “We’re okay.”

“I…” Sorey’s voice was quiet, as exhausted as Mikleo felt. He pulled away. “...your neck…”

Mikleo had almost forgotten. The entire side of his throat was sticky and wet; blood had seeped into the collar of his clothes. The wound stung faintly, like something that probably should burn more than it did. “It’s okay. I don’t really--”

“--and…” Sorey flinched.

MIkleo was worried that he was hurt. But when Sorey’s fingers reached to the base of his throat, it dawned on him what was missing. He jerked his head to the “x” of Earth protruding from the ground like a ribcage. “My necklace!”

Sharply, the dormant pain _seared._

“Mikleo--”

“--don’t move!” Lailah’s voice overlapped Sorey’s own. She dropped to her knees at his side; her hand took his chin and lifted it. “Oh, goodness. That’s--that could have been very bad. Mikleo, you could have been _killed_.”

“And…Sorey could have been kidnapped,” Mikleo rasped.

“Why didn’t you wake me?”

“Because,” Mikleo felt it important enough to repeat, “Sorey could have been--”

“--so he’s the Avatar, huh?”

Mikleo and Lailah froze. 

Rose’s face was hard. Nothing friendly warmed her ice-blue eyes; there was no sweet smile softening her face. Mikleo didn’t know whether to trust that look or despise it. 

“Well. Regardless. He doesn’t look like much now,” Rose muttered as she looked to the brunet who had slumped over on Lailah’s shoulder. “Does that all-powerful Avatar thing really take so much out of him?”

“I…” Mikleo shared another look with Lailah. He sighed. “We wouldn’t know. This is the…first time he’s done that.” 

_Sorey! Sorey, it’s okay!_ I’m _okay! I’m okay, you hear me? I’m_ all right—

Of all the things that Mikleo said—out of all the things that he _could_ have said—why had that worked? Why had those words, more than anything else, pulled Sorey back from that state?

Mikleo frowned, idly itching at the base of his neck. 

“It probably goes without saying,” Rose muttered, her boots clipping across the uneven, jagged slabs of pavement as she made her way to them. Eguille followed on her heels. “But consider all the debts you owe us nullified. What Lunarre did…or, _tried_ to do, anyway--” Rose sucked in a breath; an odd look flitted across her face. “--we Sparrowfeathers occasionally dip into shady business, but we _never_ condone the selling of people.”

Mikleo jerked his head up again and bit back a wince. Lailah tsked. “Is that what he was trying to do? Sell Sorey?”

“Since he’s the Avatar?” Rose’s nose scrunched up. “You know how highly the Fire Nation would pay to have the Avatar delivered to them?” She scratched at her cheek. “Though…with where we are on the current cycle…if he’s the right age and all, shouldn’t he be the Fire Nation’s already?”

“That’s a long story,” Mikleo sighed.

“As is, I imagine,” Eguille rumbled, “why your group is looking for Dezel, of all people.”

“Oh yeah!” Rose’s face brightened. Then, she scowled. “Hey, yeah. Wait…”

“We’ll explain everything,” Lailah assured. “But perhaps we’ll all be thinking more clearly after some rest and time to tend to our wounds.”

For the second time that night, Rose’s eyes drifted to Mikleo. And for the second time that night, something finally softened her features, making her look far more vulnerable and approachable than she had before. 

It was, however, the first time Mikleo thought he might be able to trust her.

“Yeah,” Rose murmured, relenting. “Fair enough."

**Author's Note:**

> I KEPT MY WORD THIS TIME I just want that on the record. March 21st. Here we are, with yet another oneshot I dusted off for this long-running AtlA AU, though this one's particularly long bc it's...kind of climactic and important. YE i know we haven't really written out the scene where Zaveid, Eizen, and the Avatar gang meet in the Southern Air Temple...which is referenced here in this fic...but y'kno. in the words of mr. incredible, we'll get there when we GET there
> 
> What's REALLY fun is that I gave myself this "Bad Things Happen" prompt that tied in nicely with what I had already written years ago, haha: "Muzzled." Rip. 
> 
> check out [my "Bad Things Happen" bingo card](https://somefinelipstickonthatpig.tumblr.com/post/613259542340534272/rated-t-fandom-tales-of-zestiria-prompt) if you're in the mood for more angst or action and would like to request somethin. i'm all ears


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